


Acorn

by djinnj



Series: Moments [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djinnj/pseuds/djinnj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late summer, 1999. Fleur isn't feeling well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acorn

Bill was met with the entirely unexpected sound of Early Hits of Celestina Warbek when he arrived home that afternoon. He shut the door, shifting the bag of takeaway in his hand as he called out “Fleur?” All he heard in return was a long, trilling note travelling up and down the scale from the wireless.

Why there was no answer was clear soon enough when he walked into the living room. Fleur was sitting with her legs curled up under her on the sofa, drooping against the cushions and fast asleep. The room was warm but comfortable enough, the late afternoon sun slanting in through the window and gleaming off her hair while a fresh breeze gently ruffled the curtains. He retrieved from the floor the book she had spent the last week attempting to read and placed it on the side table. She must have been asleep for some time for the wireless to have changed programmes; it was well into the second hour of one of her most despised shows.

He looked at her in a little concern. She had stayed home sick from work but sleeping away the day was unlike her, especially when she felt well enough to dress. Still, her colour was good and she looked peaceful so he went to the kitchen to set down the takeaway and wash his hands.

She woke when he shut off the wireless, making a soft inquisitive noise that was almost a squeak. He smiled and sat on the sofa next to her as she looked around groggily, blinking at him as he smoothed back her hair and felt her forehead. She was warm from sleep but not hot. That was good.

“Mmm, Bill... _est-il si tard que cela?_ ” She looked around vaguely, “I should start dinner....” she trailed off into an enormous yawn, and settled limply against his chest when it was done. He put his arms around her properly and pulled her onto his lap.

“Not yet six and I brought home takeaway from that place with the pork loin you like; you're staying right here. How do you feel?” She yawned again and he grinned as she muffled herself against his shirt.

“Mm'all right,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just tired. It's ridiculous; I have been a lump all day.”

“You're ill, yeah? To be expected.” He dropped a kiss on her head and squeezed her. She sucked in her breath sharply and twisted a little in his grasp, hunching up her shoulders. He loosened his arms, startled. “What's wrong?”

She made a face and pressed her arm carefully over her breasts as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “It's my monthly; they hurt. I think it's all terribly unfair what we women must suffer.”

He carefully folded her back in his arms and softly massaged her neck in apology, feeling her relax against him again. “Mm, it is and it's a bit early, too. Because you're ill, you think?”

“Bah, I don't know. It's very inconvenient that this once I should be early and not even properly early that it might be over and done with, and my breasts, they hurt so I cannot get comfortable and I am tired all the ti....” And she trailed off and went very still.

“Fleur?” Bill asked, concerned, leaning down to catch her eyes. She had a startled look on her face, like an idea had just taken root. He thought about what she said and his eyes widened.

“I think perhaps we should...,” and she licked her lips and swallowed hard.

“Where is it?”

“Our room, on the dressing table in the wooden box with the pendant you ga-....” he summoned the box before she could finish her sentence.

Fleur opened it with nervous fingers, disregarding the fine white gold chain and pearl nestled in the creamy velvet and took up a plain wooden top. It was no bigger than the acorn it resembled, carved in golden oak. She looked at him, her eyes large and a little scared, the tiny thing held tightly in her fingers. He set aside the box and wrapped his arms around her again, careful not to touch the top or to squeeze her too hard. He felt her yield into his embrace, that warm, familiar, _amazing_ feeling as she melted against him and just breathed, accepting and giving comfort.

“What's wrong?” he asked, softly.

She swallowed again, “It's silly.”

“You're allowed to be silly. Takes the pressure off me.”

She slapped his arm lightly and huffed a small laugh before sighing. “If we don't check, then it may or may not be true. But if we do check, then it _is_ or is _not_ true.”

“Ahhhh...,” and despite the eagerness to _know_ that quickened his pulse and made him want to jump about the room, he settled back into the sofa pulling her with him. Because he could see what she meant; in this moment it was true and it was _theirs_. “We could wait. Until you're ready.”

She clung to him for a moment and then made a face. She sat up a little and shook her hair back. “It's just foolishness; there is no reason to wait. If it's not then it's not and we continue to try.”

He ran his thumb along her cheek, an irrepressible grin breaking through. “Mm, I like trying.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed as she touched his nose with hers. “As do I, though not if I am contagious. But first....” And she bit her lip as she held her hand out in the warm hollow between their two bodies and then turned her hand so the little acorn top rested in her cupped palm.

They both held their breath as they watched it roll to one side. It could have been settling into the cradle of her hand but it did it again, and then again faster. It slowly began to spin until it was turning quickly and easily, perfectly balanced on its point.

Bill felt her breath catch as he pulled her tight into his arms and he loosed his grasp immediately, apologetic. “Merlin, Fleur-”

She stopped him with a kiss, twining her arm around his neck and carefully pressing in close while still holding her other hand curled around the whirling top. When she leaned back her smile was incandescent.

“It's all right, 'papa'. And better yet...,” she settled against him contentedly, tucking in close as they watched the little top spin.

“Hmm?” He soothed his hand down her back, feeling her relaxed and pliant. However much he wanted to run about the house like a lunatic shouting his joy at the top of his lungs, nothing was more important in that moment than holding her in his arms.

She peeped up at him and grinned, “I'm not contagious.”

He laughed and tasted her laughter on her lips in return.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only one to have wondered what a Wizarding home pregnancy test would entail.
> 
> "est-il si tard que cela?" = "is it so late?"


End file.
